


Blinded by Your (Ignorance) Stardom

by imthederpyfox



Series: Sanders sides [24]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: AU, Angst, Anxiety, Arguing, Blood, Bullying, Depression, Drug use mention, Drunkenness, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Famous! AU, Fighting, Fluff, Friendship, Hate Crime, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rehab mention, Slow Burn, Slurs, Star!Roman, Swearing, Violence, at first, but virgil sets him straight(gay), fashion icon Virgil, he can be an ass, mention of drugs, relationships, roman is a dick, skipping food, superstar!AU, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imthederpyfox/pseuds/imthederpyfox
Summary: Roman Prince is someone everyone and their grandma's knows the name of. He's plastered over magazines, TV interviews, his music is all over the radio and his shows are sold out world wide.So what happens when his manager decides he needs a new image after all the bad press recently? When they assign him a new wardrobe stylist and try to revamp his image?Virgil Thorn has always thought the pop-star was a cocky, ungrateful ass. Safe to say he wants to refuse the job, but that might be more difficult than he's first thought.- AKA, Roman is a stuck up pop star and Virgil can't be dealing with his shit.
Relationships: Prinxiety, janus/virgil, maybe more? - Relationship, roman/remmy
Series: Sanders sides [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/874935
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	1. A Bad Attitude

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought some fluff might be needed? It's not gonna be entirely fluff, in fact there will be a lot of angst, just not as much as usual. Please read the triggers as always, I don't wanna cause anyone to go through anything just because of a story.
> 
> Enjoy!~

"No way, Patton." Virgil told his boss, folding his arms. "No fucking way."  
"Virgil! Language!" Patton tutted, sipping on his coffee. "Look, the companies earning a lot of money from this deal, I need you to help me out, kiddo-"  
"Patton, that guy's an ass!" Virgil huffed. "You've had me do a LOT of difficult jobs for this company, lots of horrible clients, who wouldn't know the first thing about fashion is one of my best pump designs hit them in the face, but I refuse to work with the medias current 'bad boy', who's too spoiled to realise that his life is perfect." 

"Are you finished ranting? Because I have a meeting with the manager of Vogue - New York in ten minutes." Patton chuckled. "You don't know the guy, V."  
"I know enough. Every magazine, website, article is about how pig headed and-and vein he is." Virgil grumbled, resting against his desk and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Patton, but this is one client I can't work for. Just do me this favour, please!"  
Patton sighed. "Verge, I don't want any of the other staff messing this one up! you're my most capable worker, you know styles and trends and you know what suits people... I can't trust this to anyone else. I NEED you to do this, kiddo." he flashed that pout and Virgil frowned, holding the older man's gaze. "Double pay." Virgil raised a brow. "And I'll take you to the next award show." Virgil kept looking at him, until he finally sighed. 

"I will meet with him. But if he does anything to piss me off, ANYTHING. You can find someone else to deal with him." He sighed, letting Patton hug him. "Bit tight there, Pat."  
"THANK YOU, VIRGIL!" His boss squealed. "I trust you completely, and I'm sure he's not as bad as he seems in the media."  
Virgil rolled his eyes, picking up his own coffee that the head of the company had bought to bribe him with. "Whatever, Pat. Have fun at your meeting."

\------------

"Up. I won't tell you again." Joan told the star as they pushed the curtains open. "Hi, I'm Joan," they told the boy who was wrapped around their client. "I'm sure you had fun, but now is the time to get the hell out, because I need to talk to that guy there." They pointed to Roman, who groaned at the light coming in. "Roman, in the lounge, you have five minutes." They left the room.   
Roman huffed. "Don't mind them, they get cranky." He told the boy next to him, who looked thoroughly confused. Joan shot him the finger as they left, closing the door behind them. "Right, time to get up." He stood, running a hand through his hair and rooting around for his clothes. 

"Oh, um, should I go?" The other boy asked, grabbing his trousers from the air when Roman threw them at him.   
"Yeah, it was fun though." Roman shrugged, pulling his own jeans up and fastening them before looking for a top to wear, not offering a glance at the boy he couldn't remember the name of now. "Bet you enjoyed it."  
The other boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah! And the concert was great as well."  
"Thanks." Roman shrugged, yanking a plain white top on and turning back to the boy, folding his arms as he came over. 

"Will you... ya know, will we see each other again?" The boy asked, hopefully.   
Roman smiled a little. "You knew what this was." He shrugged. "Besides, I already have an arrangement. You know your way out?"  
"Um, yeah." The boy nodded. "Thanks... ya know, for last night."  
Roman walked out of the room, not paying any more attention to the boy as he walked over to his manager, who sat on the sofa, flicking through a magazine and offering a wave to the boy who was leaving. 

"What's so important this early?" Roman grumbled, folding his arms.   
"It;s 11 o'clock in the morning, Ro." Joan answered casually, before throwing the magazine down and turning their attention to their client. "I have your new schedule, and I don't want ANY arguing, you hear me?" They handed over the sheets to him and sitting back, knowing full well what was coming.   
"No way, Joan!" Roman shouted, the pages flapping around as he threw his hands out.

Joan looked to their nails, having known this tantrum was coming. Best to just let him hash it out.   
"I don't need a fucking stylist!" Roman continued. Joan glanced over his outfit and raised a brow and Roman huffed. "Joan, no! This is insane. I'm fine with how I dress."  
"Ro, you dress like a college lad tryna get a date at a student bar." Joan replied bluntly. "This is all about image, which trust me, you need a new one of."  
"I do NOT need a makeover by some prissy twit that's gonna make me wear frills and lace and-and fucking silk." Roman argued, folding his arms. 

"Roman." Joan sat forward. "You need to fix your image. This is a good step toward that. You're whole image is in tatters, the media love you. And NOT in a good, you gave to charity, sort of way. NO. A bad way, you've been acting out and people have noticed."  
"Of course they have, they always notice, because everyone's always watching me." Roman grumbled. "I don't need to fix anything. My albums are selling, my concerts are sold out, I'm one of the biggest stars on the planet right now- STOP rolling your eyes!" He threw the schedule at them. 

"This isn't a discussion, Roman." Joan stood, forcing the papers back into his hands. "It's just something you're gonna have to get used to." They walked toward the door as Roman pouted angrily. "Your first appointment is tomorrow morning, DON'T be late. We have a good deal with this company and I've been promised the best of the best, I know it's in your very being to do so, but DON'T. Screw. It. Up." And with that they left.   
Roman huffed, flopping down onto the sofa and running a hand through his hair.

\------------

He hadn't had any intention of actually going to the meeting, but some angry voicemails and threats of cancelling the things on the schedule Roman actually enjoyed had him headed for the office listed on the contacts sheet Joan has given him. He slouched in the back of the town car, brooding - not pouting as Joan liked to call it... - as they drove there.   
His driver made the usual conversation, but he didn't respond more than mumbles every so often. 

They pulled up outside the office, and Roman let out a long sigh. "Wish me luck in hell." He told the driver, getting out of the car and closing the door.   
"I'll pick you up later, sir." The driver smiled, driving off.  
No going back now then. He sighed once again, looking up at the building, honestly just trying to put this off as long as possible.


	2. Rivalry

"You must be Roman!" The owner of the fashion company walked over to the star, holding his hand out. "I'm Patton Herz, the boss, it's nice to meet you."   
Roman nodded and shook Patton's hand. "Hi. So, you my new 'stylist'?" He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets.   
Patton chuckled. "No, no, Virgil's just in the other room. I must warn you, he can be a bit grumpy." He lead Roman into the other room. "Virgil, Roman's here!"

"Finally decided to show then?" Virgil grumbled, before continuing with his phone call. "I'll have to call you back later, Lo." He hung up and walked over, arms folded.   
"Virgil Thorn, this is Roman Prince." Patton introduced the star, who nodded his head at the stylist. "Play nice." He flashed Virgil a pointed look before leaving them to it.   
Roman looked Virgil over, taking in the deep purple shirt, the slick black waistcoat that looked perfectly tailored to his lanky, thin frame. The seemingly unbearably skinny jeans with purple threading and pointed black dress shoes. Virgil raised a brow to him, folding his arms.   
"Take a picture, if you want." He smirked. 

Roman rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't exactly care about being here so-"  
"No, see, it's my turn to talk first." Virgil interrupted, perching against his desk. "I don't like you."  
"Fun..." Roman glared at the other boy, how dare he, who did he think he was? He would have walked straight out of there... if Virgil wasn't the first person not to swoon over him in years.   
"I think you're obnoxious, vein, non-charitable in the slightest. I think you think the world of yourself and very little of other people. But this is my job, and I'm a professional, and I'm good at this. So while we're being forced to work together, perhaps you could at least TRY not to be a dick." When Roman didn't say anything to that he quirked a brow. "Agreed?" A small smirk came over his lips, jostling the lip ring there. 

Roman shook himself from his daze. "Whatever, princess. Look, I don't want or need some preppy fashion boy making me over like a friggin' Ken doll as if it's his last year of beauty school, ok?"  
Virgil scoffed. "You don't scare me, pretty boy." He stood straight, and Roman hated to admit how much taller the other boy was when he didn't slouch. "I've been set a task, I'm your new stylist, so you're gonna have to get used to the fashion shows and keep your mouth shut, or I'll put you in touch with one of my colleagues, who - by the way - would NOT care about what actually suits you and WILL have you looking like a reject from Project Runway, series 1. It's either me, and trust me, I don't like that idea any more than you do, or a girl who thinks orange spots was a good idea for a pair of tights. Your choice, Princey."

Roman frowned, shifting from one foot the other. He really didn't like being talked to like this, like he wasn't a star, like some stylist wanna be could talk down to him, tell him what to do. He really hated being made speechless when he was used to doing that to other people. "Fine." He grumbled, folding his arms and scowling as Virgil's grinned triumphantly.   
"Good choice." He turned to his desk. "Now, I'm guessing you're sizes off eye, and I have a pretty good idea for everything, but just to be sure, I need to take your measurements." He turned back, holding his trusty tape measure.   
"Do we have to?" Roman sighed, but followed the other boy through to the attached fitting room. There was a pedestal with mirrors around it, stylish black Art Deco cabinets held different materials and clothes. 

"On the plinth, pop boy." Virgil told him, grabbing a new notebook from a desk to one side of the room and coming back over as Roman rolled his eyes but trudged up onto the pedestal. "Right, we'll start with your torso, lift your arms for me." He told him, strictly professional now that they were working and not just talking.   
Roman sighed, but lifted his arms, feeling the tape work round his chest as Virgil began taking measurements. "You heard my music, then?" He asked, unsure why he was talking to this guy who had been rude to him, he supposed it was just to fill the silence. Definitely not because he was intrigued by this guy. 

Virgil scoffed. "You're kidding right?"  
"Is that a yes?" Roman smirked.   
"You wish." Virgil told him, distracted by his job. "Arms down, and keep still."   
Roman lowered his arms again, and Virgil took the measurement across his shoulders. "To answer your insanely arrogant question; no, I don't like your music." He walked back round to the front of the star, glancing up to see an unreadable look on his face. He looked back down, taking the measurement across the front as well.

"Has anyone ever told you how rude you are?" Roman asked, almost pouting as he avoided looking at the other boy through his anger. He didn't know why he was so angry, but he was finding himself more and more frustrated with this Virgil guy.   
"Dame Judy Dench at a benefit actually." Virgil answered casually, pushing Roman's arms slightly to get him to raise them again.   
Roman huffed, but did as told. "Judy Dench, eh?" 

"She's a character, that's for sure." Virgil smiled. Roman couldn't help but stare at the other boy, who was distracted taking the measurements of his arm to notice the star watching him. But that smile... there was so much... passion there. Passion and love for his job, for his clients and the people he worked with. It was the first somewhat genuine smile he'd seen Virgil give this entire time and it suited him well, even if it didn't last long. "Point your fingers straight." Virgil told him, measuring the length of his arm.   
"So, why don't you like my music?" Roman asked, steeling himself for the answer, knowing it would probably be harsh. 

"Well, a lot of it is over-produced." Virgil answered, picking up his notebook to jot down the measurements. "The lyrics are good but I can't get past the overly-pop based aspect of it."  
Roman was shocked to say the least, and watched the other boy, wondering what to say.   
"Close your mouth, pretty boy, you'll lose your tongue." Virgil mumbled without even looking up at the star.  
"Shut up." Roman grumbled as Virgil came back over, nudging the stars leg slightly and Roman stepped his feet apart so the stylist could take his measurements. "Still don't see why they sent me here..." He grumbled. 

"Because you wear baggy jeans and plain shirts?" Virgil snarked, raising a brow to Roman. "Have you ever even worn a suit?"   
Roman glared at the other boy. "I like being comfortable. Besides, I wear suits to shows and stuff."  
"Let me guess, plain black or white suits like everyone else?" Virgil smirked, standing back up and writing down the newest measurements.   
"Not always." Roman muttered, stuffing his hands back in his pockets.   
Virgil raised a brow at him, yep. He had him pegged. "Shoe size?"   
"Nine." Roman sighed. "We done?"

"Almost." Virgil told him, leading the way back into the main room and putting the notebook down on his desk before turning back to the star. "So, unfortunately we gotta meet up again."  
Roman huffed, rolling his eyes. "Why? You have my measurements."  
Virgil folded his arms, resting against his desk again. "Because, princey, everyone is different. Clothes aren't just about size, it's style, fit, colours, there's a lot more to fashion than THAT." He pointed to Roman's outfit and the star frowned. "So, we're going shopping. Tomorrow, 10 am, in the higher boulevard."

"Too early, no thanks." Roman told him, shrugging.   
Virgil ground his teeth a little. "It's not a choice, dick. You'll just have to go a night without partying with other drug addict stars and be responsible enough to get up before midday." He didn't know what he'd said, but Roman looked pissed now, and he sorta wanted to take it back, except he didn't know what he'd done or said that offended him.   
"You don't know ANYTHING about me, Thorn." He ground out. 

"I know enough." Virgil muttered.   
"Fuck this. And fuck you." Roman told him, stepping into Virgil's space and pointing a finger at him. "This is stupid, I don't need a fucking make over."  
Virgil wouldn't let himself be pushed around, and didn't back down. Though he wondered what had gotten the other boy so hot headed. "Not my choice, Roman. Don't blame me because you need a personality transplant."  
Roman glared at him, and they stood in silence for a moment, tension thick as they stared at each other. Before Roman finally broke it and stormed to the door. Neither of them said anything else as he left, slamming the door behind him. 

Virgil let out a deep, angry breath through his nose, grinding his teeth. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath. What a joke, how could Patton convince him to work with that hot headed ass hole? He sighed, brought out of his anger by the phone ringing. He remembered he was at work, and got back to it. He'd have a lot of strong words if the star didn't turn up tomorrow.


	3. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone commenting, on here and Tumblr!
> 
> ALSO! I now have an ask tumblr for the AU Sanders bois, not just this story but all my others from Ao3, SO! If you wanna ask them anything, just pop on over here - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ask-au-sanderssides   
> And ask them something! Please, it can be anything, and I'm tryna get this new blog off the ground!
> 
> Thanks, 
> 
> -Exza~x

Virgil was just considering giving up and going home as he glanced to his watch once again. The star was late, as expected, but the stylist didn't even know if he would show at all. After the strange altercation yesterday - which left Virgil confused to say the least - he didn't exactly know where he stood with his client. He didn't exactly want to be here any more than the star, but here he was. And he didn't exactly appreciate standing at the top of the boulevard, feeling like a half-baked hooker, waiting for someone who didn't even have the decency to turn up-  
"Didn't think you'd show." A familiar and cocky voice came from behind him, and he turned, a scowl present on his face. Roman noticed and sighed. "I told you I'm not a morning person."

"Neither am I, princey. I still have to go to work on time. Normal people get fired if they slack off." He folded his arms after stubbing his cigarette out.   
Roman huffed, but his eyes roamed once again, as if against his will, over the other boy's outfit. A denim jacket low over his shoulders, a simple black shirt with no sleeves, those ever present skinny jeans - in white this time - purple doc martins, purple circular sunglasses and a bandanna in his hair. "What are we doing then? What torture do you have set up for me?"  
Virgil smirked. "Shopping. And trust me, it's no walk in the park for me either, pop-prince."  
"You ever gonna stop with the nicknames, Hot Topic?" Roman quipped, earning an even bigger smirk from the other boy.   
"Aww, you think I'm hot." And with that Virgil turned and began walking, leaving a confused and flushed Roman behind. 

The star shook himself, quickly rushing to catch up with the taller man's long strides. "First things first, I don't do suits, no edgy crap." His eyes trailed to the other boy's docs and Virgil snorted.   
"Wow, you REALLY think you're in charge here, don't you?" He asked, raising a brow. "Your manager seems nice, wonder why they put up with you..." He muttered, stopping outside a store. "We'll start simple. And no, I don't mean white shirt and blue jeans simple. And I WILL warn you now, I'm not going to be talking into your blacked-out sunglasses all day so I'd take them off before we go inside."  
Roman frowned, but pulled the glasses off and tucked them into his shirt. "Better?" He asked, trying not to scowl in public.   
"Much." Virgil grinned, leading them into the store. 

Roman had half a mind to leave now, he didn't know how much more he could take of this guy, but he knew Joan would have his heart roasting on a steak if he didn't at least try. Plus there was something about the whole, not giving a shit who he was thing that drew him toward Virgil, as much as he hated to admit it. So, he reluctantly followed, letting Virgil lead him through the isles.   
"So, what happens now?" He asked after the stylist had had a quick chat with the optimistic man behind the counter.   
Virgil smiled, turning back to the rails of over-priced clothes. "Well, your company has given me a limitless credit card, they commissioned a full makeover, with on-going advice and help for events and stuff." He explained, pulling a shirt from the wrack and looking it over. "So, we find as many clothes as you can handle today, you try them on, I take note on how they fit, and any that need altering, I take back to work."

"Does zero count as how many I can handle?" Roman sighed, though the edge to his tone had softened slightly.   
Virgil noticed but didn't say anything about it. Anything to make his job easier. "Afraid not." He continued to the next row. "I'm supposed to ask questions to figure out your personality, but I have a pretty good idea."  
Roman raised a brow. "Oh, really?"  
"An idea of what you portray to the outside world? Yeah, I do. And though I doubt anyone can be that much of a douche in real life, the public sees what they see." Virgil shrugged, heading to a shelf of shoes and looking over them. Roman watched him, folding his arms and not realising he was staring. 

"Why do you need to know my personality anyway?" He asked when Virgil glanced back to him.   
Virgil rolled his eyes. "To know what would suit you, it helps with style. But since you have no style, I'm working with a blank canvas."  
Roman found himself smiling at that. "Surely that's a good thing?"  
"You'd think so, but no. See, if your bosses don't like what I pick, if the public don't like what I pick, if your manager doesn't like what I pick, My boss finds out, I get it in the neck. And I have a reputation to uphold." He explained, already carrying multiple items that looked way too flashy for the star. 

"Your boss seems like a sweetheart, I'm sure he wouldn't make it too bad for you." He shrugged. "I would ask if it matters if I like the clothes, but I doubt I'd like the answer."  
Virgil sighed. "In my industry it doesn't matter what your boss thinks, as soon as your reputation is ruined? Who would wanna work with you. I've worked on models, stars, singers, actors, red carpet walkers, Broadway legends. But one bad word from any of their bosses or producers or managers? Bye-bye Virgil." He sighed, distracted by the clothes he realised, since he didn't usually talk this much and after the day before, he'd thought the rooting for clothes would be awkward and tension-filled. He definitely preferred Roman pretending to take an interest. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. You might not like what I'll pick out for you, but after talking to your manager for a while, they seem to have good style, and liked the outfits of people I've worked with before."

Roman nodded a little, watching Virgil as he continued looking through the aisles. "Who HAVE you worked with?" He grinned when Virgil laughed.   
"Like I'm gonna tell you that." He shook his head, pulling some more clothes onto this pile. Roman stepped forward, taking the clothes and shoes from the other boy. Virgil raised a brow, but didn't bring it up. If the star wanted to carry his own clothes, he wouldn't stop him. "Fine, I'll give you hints." He smirked. "One has been showing in Vagus."  
Roman gasped. "Brittany?"  
"I'm not gonna answer you properly, Roman." Virgil laughed, browsing the line in front of him for accessories. 

Roman watched him, smiling to himself a little. That was the first time the other boy had said his real name, and for some reason a shot of something ran through his stomach. He brushed it off when Virgil came back to him, throwing more things onto the pile. "Ok, turn your ass around. Changing rooms are over there." He nodded to the room in the back.   
Roman did as told, just happy they weren't arguing at the moment, just enjoying friendly jabs. 

The dressing room was large, with a portioned off part for the person trying on clothes and a small bench for the stylist to sit on outside. They had the room to themselves as well, which was better than most changing rooms in stores. Virgil sat waiting for the star to change. "Which ones do you want first?" Roman shouted. "I'm assuming you matched certain things...?"  
"The red jeans with the zip top." Virgil called back. "The shoes you have on now are fine, though they need a good clean."   
"Hey!" Roman made an offended noise and Virgil chuckled to himself, checking his phone while he waited. "God, these jeans are tight..."

"They'll fit, trust me. Maybe you'll sell more albums if your ass looks better." Virgil retorted.  
"You really are rude..." Roman grumbled, but little did Virgil know he was flushed red once again. He put it down to trying to fit himself into the jeans and tried to make himself less beetroot coloured for when he came out of the changing room. He looked down at himself, god he felt stupid. At least the material was nice, he supposed. Plus it DID fit perfectly... how had Virgil known by eye what would fit him so well?  
"You died in there or something?" Virgil called through, now stood outside the small room, resting against the wall. 

Roman sighed. "I look ridiculous."   
"So you look like normal then." Virgil rolled his eyes, smirking when Roman flung to curtain across and stormed past him, huffing as he looked at himself in the mirror.   
"Zeus... I look like a circus clown!" He turned back to Virgil, who rolled his eyes.   
"You look like a star." He corrected him, walking over and looking the outfit over. A simple white shirt with Zips over the arms and down from the chest to the hem at the bottom, red skinny jeans with a simple split across one kneecap, and Roman's dirty white high-tops. If the shoes were clean it would look great. "Tuck that side of the shirt in and keep this side out." He told him, and looked up at Roman. 

The star had forgotten what Virgil was actually there for, having been confused - and completely distracted - with the boy's eyes roaming over him. He jumped back into the moment and did as told, pouting.  
"Perfect." Virgil smirked.   
"You have GOT to be kidding?" Roman deflated. "This isn't me."  
Virgil chuckled. "No. It's better." He nudged Roman's arm, motioning back to the changing room. "Back in, Princey. Time for the next one. We have a lot to get through."  
Roman groaned, throwing his head back but doing as told, making Virgil laugh.

\------------

"Can we stop now?" Roman asked a few hours, and many shopping bags later. He sighed, looking around the street and spotting a coffee shop. "Let's get a drink or something."  
Virgil raised a brow, looking at the star over the rim of his purple glasses.   
"Oh, not like that!" Roman huffed, and there was Virgil's smirk again. God, how did he lose his cool around this other boy so often, it never happened with anyone else. How could a lanky, sarcastic stylist get under his skin and behind his walls so much. "Come on, I'm buying." He marched toward the coffee shop, causing Virgil to laugh at his tantrum.   
"I can buy my own, I don't mind." He shrugged as they walked. Roman glanced to him, ready to mock him, but the look of defiance on the other boy's face stopped him. He thought it best not to push the issue, maybe Virgil had had money issues in the past or didn't accept charity. Either way, it was best not to push it. 

"Fine, but next time I'm getting them." He grinned, nudging Virgil, who rolled his eyes.  
"Whatever." He accidentally glanced someone's shoulder with his elbow and quickly apologised. "I'm so sorry-"  
"IS THAT ROMAN PRINCE?!" The girl's face turned from a snare to that typical fan girl look as her and her friend squealed. Virgil frowned, he'd almost forgotten Roman was a pop star. He stumbled a little when the girl pushed him out of the way, spilling some of her drink on his white jeans. He clenched his jaw, looking down to the floor as he waited for them to stop fawning over the star. 

"Hi, girls." Roman smiled politely. Funny, Virgil had expected him to keep up the same vein attitude he did in all other areas of his life. "Be careful there, yeah?" He told her, glancing to Virgil, who paused, watching them interact.   
The girl hardly looked in the stylists direction as she muttered a half-baked apology before her attention was fully back on Roman. Virgil shook his head, looking down to the floor. Feeling as unwanted and as much of an outsider as he did right now, he wanted to just walk away, but it was interesting to see Roman being so sweet around his fans. "Are you two dating?!" The second girl asked, and Roman laughed.  
"Just friends, girls." He smiled. "You want a picture?" He asked, and the girls squealed once again. The first girl walked over to Virgil, handing him her phone.

"Do you mind?" She asked, and Virgil offered a tiny smile.   
"Sure." He waited for them to pose. "Ok, smile." He told them, and took a few photos for her before she grabbed her phone back.   
Roman said goodbye to them and they walked off, still squealing as they left. The star walked over to Virgil, who was watching the girl's go, his expression not amused and irritated. "How about that drink?" Roman asked, and Virgil looked back to him. He could just turn around and go home right now, or go back to work to fix the clothes that needed altering. 

But he nodded, following Roman into the coffee shop and pulling the bandanna from his hair, running his fingers through it to make sure it was perfectly gelled up still now the accessory was removed, and wrapped the bandanna round the small stain on his trouser leg. Roman watched him. Virgil seemed annoyed... or upset? Honestly he didn't know him well enough. But he knew he was being quiet, and avoiding looking at Roman. "You ok?" He found himself asking, and Virgil looked to him.   
He shrugged. "Fine. Just some of my favourite jeans ruined."  
Roman smiled. "Sorry, the fans can get a bit much sometimes." He sighed. "Only so many actually listen when I tell them to be kind to each other."

Virgil watched the star for a moment. "It's fine." He looked to the coffee board, and Roman asked what he wanted. Considering what had happened, he allowed the star to buy him a drink, especially when Roman insisted. They headed to the seats to wait for their drinks to come after they'd ordered. "You being nice to me is very disconcerting." Virgil mumbled as they sat down in a small cubby seat.   
Roman chuckled. "Well, my fans spilled coffee on your insanely skinny jeans, least I can do is buy you one back."   
Virgil shook his head, folding his arms and sitting back. He watched Roman for a second. "I don't get it." The star raised a brow. "You're a dick majority of the time but to fans you're all sweet and nice?"  
Roman nodded, smiling a little as their drinks were put in front of them and Virgil thanked the waitress before turning his attention back to the star. "Without them I have nothing. You know, they keep me going. They buy the albums and the merch, they come to the concerts. Without that? What's the point? I'd have nothing."

"You'd have the music." Virgil shrugged, sipping on his coffee. He jumped when his phone began ringing, rushing to pull it out of his pocket. "Sorry." He told Roman, pulling the phone to his ear and talking to what sounded to be Patton on the other side.   
Roman watched him, his last words had hit him in a way he hadn't thought the stylists words could. How? How could this seemingly ordinary man break through his walls so easily? He watched Virgil talking, fiddling with his lip ring as he listened to what his boss had to say. The small smile when he replied and the grin when he joked about something. He quickly looked to his coffee when Virgil glanced to him, but looked up when his attention turned away again. He had to admit, as bad a first impression as they'd had, and as pissed as he'd been the day before when he'd left Virgil's office, the other man was beautiful. And funny, and... admittedly, good company. 

Virgil hung up the phone. "So, turns out I need to head back to the office." He told Roman, who raised a brow. "Well, one of my other clients needs some help with something, but you can come with if you want?"  
"Really?" Roman asked, standing as the other man stood.   
"Yeah, I need to make sure I know what I'm doing with those clothes after all." Virgil smirked, turning and walking out of the coffee shop.   
Roman stood there for another moment. "Right..." He shook his head, following Virgil out the door and waiting for the cab the other boy had called.


End file.
